


dante in hell

by tasteslikemiso



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-26
Updated: 2010-12-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasteslikemiso/pseuds/tasteslikemiso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ninth circle is reserved for traitors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dante in hell

**Author's Note:**

> Set during SS arc. Title from the September 19, 2005 prompt for [](http://31-days.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://31-days.livejournal.com/)**31_days**.

This is what it means to be in the 11th. It isn't a sacrifice because he wants to be here, wants it more than anything. He knows what it means to be beautiful, too. Beauty is on the battlefield. The flash of steel is beautiful, his blade slicing cleanly through cloth and flesh alike. The way his hair falls around his face, the smooth rustle of fabric as he moves in for the killing strike. The sweat on his brow and blood on his lip. Anything less would be hideous.

He cannot absorb reiatsu, so he has learned to drink in the bloodlust in the air, the fury and fervor of an opponent's fighting spirit. Ruri'iro Kujaku hisses and screams, but Yumichika knows what it means to have self control and stays his hand, colors himself in wisteria. Multiple blades rake across Hisagi's chest. He strangles the command rising in his throat, it burns it burns but he will hold his ground. Better to swallow blood than pride. Better to betray himself than his division. He knows he deserves his seat, with or without his shikai's true strength.

They are both shaking, beaten down and worn out. Yumichika remembers that he could be healed in an instant, upon the enemy with renewed energy, and all it would take is a few words. Better to win than lose, and Ikkaku and the captain are nowhere in sight. Ruri'iro Kujaku is leaping from his hands, only too ready to split and deviate. The vines wrap around Hisagi's arms, binding him to the spot. Yumichika already sees the buds forming from the reiatsu pouring forth. Intoxicated, he drinks nearly to the last drop. His eyes glow azure blue. It was necessary, he tells himself. Victory is beautiful; anything less would be hideous.

He shudders, overwhelmed by the foreign power flowing through him, the devil's breath sending the chill of treason down his spine.


End file.
